Amon (20 page)

Nettie’s brows rose again. She swallowed hard and took a step back toward Cutty. “I see.”

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Cutty asked.

“Amon is admiring this tree,” she said, her voice weak.

Cutty noted the way Amon touched the branches and quickly looked between the tree and Nettie. “Do tell?”

Nettie took another step away. “Yes,” she said worriedly.

Cutty caught her tone. “Shouldn’t he, uh, be admirin’ somethin’ else?” he asked.

Nettie drew even with Cutty. “Amon is quite … attracted to this tree.”

Cutty nodded numbly. “I can see that.”

She turned to him. “I’d like to return to the cabin. Would you escort me?”

“I can do that.”

She watched Amon circle around to the other side of the tree. “I’m going back, but I will return momentarily.”

“Go ahead,” Amon called from the other side.

Nettie knew he couldn’t see her, and let out her breath in exasperation. Cutty glanced at her, then shrugged. She ignored him and started walking.

As soon as they were out of earshot, she stopped. “About Amon, he’s …” She waved a hand around, trying to find the right word. “… he’s not quite right, I’m afraid.”

“Amon?” Cutty said. “Not right?

“Yes, he’s … he’s …” She frowned at Amon in the distance. “What was that about?!”

“I dunno. He does like his trees, though.”

“That’s just it! He’s looking at a bloody tree like he’d rather be getting married to it! Only a moment ago he was so … attentive … out behind the barn …”

“Just what happened behind the barn before I got there?” Cutty asked, crossing his arms in suspicion.

“Nothing!” she said as she threw her hands in the air. “Everything.”

“Ya ain’t makin’ sense.”

“I know!”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“What’s the matter with
him
?!”

Cutty took her hand and started walking. “Maybe ya need a drink or somethin’.”

“Spirits are not going to help the situation! Don’t you see? Amon Cotter is … well, I think he’s addled in the brain!”

“Ya kinda already said that.”

“I know … but … I can’t marry a man who isn’t himself.”

Cutty stopped and looked her in the eye. “But what if he is?”

“What?!”

“You heard me. What if that’s just him? Ya still gonna marry him?”

“I … well, but he’s … strange.”

“And yer a scullery maid.”

“You didn’t have to bring
that
up,” she grumbled.

“Did it ever occur to ya that maybe there’s a reason Amon’s a little different?”

Nettie stared at him. She hadn’t thought of that. “He seems so normal most of the time…”

“’Til it comes to his work. Then he gets a little overzealous is all. That’s my reasonin’, ya can take it or leave it.”

“But … but …”

“No buts, just look at him. Get to know him. Everyone’s passionate about somethin’. For Amon, it’s wood. Would ya rather it was gamblin’ or whiskey or chasin’ skirts?”

Nettie stared at him, speechless. Blunt as he was, Cutty did have a point – if one was to have a vice, woodcarving was a rather safe one. And there was another thing. Her life had been filled with so much drudgery over the last ten years that she’d lost much of her own passion for living. She certainly couldn’t have been accused of loving her work. But Amon loved his. How could she condemn him for that?

She glanced at Amon in the distance, then back to Cutty. “What’s your passion?”

He took a step back. “This ain’t about me. It’s about you and that tree-lovin’ … er, that craftsman. I don’t know him as well as I’d like, but I can tell he’s fallin’ for ya. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You can?”

“Sure I can. Now stop worryin’ and give him a chance. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“We went through enough adventure getting here,” she argued.

“Well then, where’s your sense of peace? See if’n ya can’t find it in Amon.”

She looked at the ground, unable to speak. His words struck a chord in her heart. She did feel at peace with Amon, a deep peace that went beyond her understanding. She nodded slowly, turned and continued down the trail.

Nineteen

The next day Nettie awoke with a strange empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. After she and Cutty returned to the cabin yesterday, Harrison Cooke had shown up, wanting to speak with Amon. Sensing Harrison would be a while, Newton suggested that Amon call on Nettie the following day. He agreed, and would be coming into town that afternoon. Good timing, in that another meeting of the ladies’ sewing circle was planned for the morning.

Bad timing, in that Nettie wasn’t feeling well at all. “Oohhh,” she moaned as she got up from bed, wrapping her arms around her middle. Maybe she should send word with Eloise that she couldn’t attend the sewing circle. But if she was too ill to go to town, how could she see Amon?

What was wrong with her? She’d felt fine yesterday – a bit too fine, truth be told – until she noticed the ardent admiration Amon gave to a tree. Ever since then she’d been tense, despite Cutty’s pleas to give the man a chance. She hadn’t said a word to Newton for fear he’d think that she was either loose in the head, or take her at her word and call the match off. She did want to give Amon a chance, really. But what if he really was, as the locals referred to it,
plumb loco
?

A knock sounded on her door. Nettie forced herself out of bed, put on her robe and went to answer it. “Yes?”

“It’s me, Mrs. Upton. Are you all right in there?”

Nettie cocked her head and opened the door. “Of course … well, maybe a bit tired …”

“You missed breakfast.”

“I … what?” Nettie asked in surprise. She pushed past the woman and looked up and down the hall. “Why didn’t my brother wake me?”

Mrs. Upton shrugged. “He was going to, but Cutty said you probably needed the rest and your brother agreed.”

“What time is it?”

“Nearly nine. The sewing circle is meeting at ten this morning.”

“Oh … yes. Is that why you’re here?”

“Of course. You don’t want to miss it, do you?”

Nettie rubbed one bleary eye. “I must admit, I thought of it.”

Mrs. Upton entered the room, giving her a gentle nudge to precede her. “Aren’t you feeling well, honey? You do look a little pale.”

“I’ve felt better. I’m not sure what’s wrong.”

“Where does it hurt? Your head, belly, what?”

Nettie smiled at her concern. “None of those places, really. I do feel rather … well, it’s silly, really.”

“Tell me,” Mrs. Upton urged.

“I’m not sure how to explain it. I feel … like a hole is … growing inside me.”

Mrs. Upton’s brows rose at that. “Sounds like you’re hungry.”

Nettie closed her eyes at her own foolishness. It was almost nine – of course she’d be hungry. She was used to eating early. “You’re right, of course,” she said with a sigh. “Let me get dressed and I’ll be right down.”

“I saved ya a plate. It’ll be in the kitchen waiting for ya.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Upton. You’re very kind.” Mrs. Upton smiled, then left her to dress.

Nettie sighed again as she went to the armoire in the corner and examined the few frocks she owned. None were well made, all rather dull in color. She wondered why no one had said anything about the state of her clothes, or Newton’s for that matter. But then, her relatives had made the same journey to get here, most of them anyway. Their wardrobes probably hadn’t fared well either.

But her cousins had left with nicer clothes, and had the time to sew new dresses since their arrival. She’d have to do the same if she wanted anything decent to wear. At least they didn’t know that the state her clothes were in now wasn’t much different from when she’d left England. She’d been smart and worn only two dresses during the long journey, then discarded those in Oregon City. The others, she’d saved for when she got to Clear Creek. Newton had done the same.

She put on her blue (more grey at this point) day dress, washed her face, put up her hair and went downstairs. In the kitchen Mrs. Upton handed her a plate with some bacon and a slice of fresh-baked bread, then poured her a cup of coffee. “Are ya going to see Amon today?”

Nettie stopped chewing. A lightning bolt went up her spine at the mention of his name. “I hope to. He said he’d call on me this afternoon.”

“You’ll have a full day then, between that handsome Mr. Cotter and the sewing circle.”

Nettie set her bread down. “Yes, about that …”

“Oh, I understand if you don’t know a thing. I can help you learn.”

Nettie gave her a half-smile. “It’s not that – I can sew … a little. Well, maybe more.”

“Wonderful! Then you should be able to help out with the new project!”

“Which is?”

“You wedding dress, of course! Now that you and Amon are courting, it’s sure to be the next thing we do!”

Now she shuddered. Maybe she
was
coming down with something. “Mr. Cotter and I haven’t come to an understanding as yet.”

“Oh, but you will! Trust me, honey, that man has an eye for you!”

Without warning, Nettie felt overwhelmed by sadness, and she had to grab the table to steady herself. Tears stung the back of her eyes and her mouth fell open at the sensation that the “hole” she’d sensed earlier was growing.

“Nettie, are you all right?” Mrs. Upton asked with concern.

“Yes, it’s … it’s nothing.” But it was definitely something, and she had no idea what.

Then she had a thought, a tiny prick of an idea. She’d pondered Amon’s passion the previous day, and how her passion for life had been drained away by life under the thumb of the Baron. But … what if having a husband, a home and a family
was
her passion, one she’d buried so deep that it was hidden even from herself? What if this whole marriage business had awoken in her the desire of her heart of hearts?

If so, then thoughts that Amon might not want her may have caused the dark pit she felt growing deep within. “Amon …” she whispered. Even the sound of his name affected her, and her heart began to ache.

“Maybe some milk’ll help,” Mrs. Upton suggested.

Nettie gave her a helpless look. “No, but thank you. I think I’d better go to my room now.”

“But the sewing circle starts in less than half an hour.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Upton, I’ll be there.” She got up from the table and headed for the door. She needed something, but she knew it wasn’t food or water, or medicine, or sleep. She put one hand on the door, ready to push it open. “Amon …” she whispered to herself. “I need to see Amon.”

The thought spurred her forward and she left the kitchen, wandering out onto the front porch of the hotel. She gazed down the street, half-expecting to see Amon Cotter riding toward her. But there was no one around, just a few horses tied here and there in front of different buildings. What was wrong with her?

She rubbed her arms with her hands as a chill took her. She must be getting sick. If so, then maybe she’d better find a way to let Amon know she wouldn’t be able to see him that afternoon. But that thought sent her pacing in a circle, before she stopped in front of the hotel doors. “What is wrong with me?!”

The tears hit again, as did Cutty’s words.
Everyone’s passionate about somethin’ …

“Oh mercy –
now
my heart decides to join the party!” she muttered to herself. She hadn’t considered love, not seriously. It was a nice idea, but she couldn’t allow herself the luxury – not as a virtual slave in the Baron’s manse, not as a mail-order bride of sorts. Finding out if she and Amon would suit wasn’t the same as finding out if she and Amon were in love. Deeply, undeniably, madly in love …

Nettie couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down her cheek. “Blast!” She clenched her fists, went inside, up the stairs and into her room. Once there she sat on the settee, put her face in her hands and wept with the realization that more than anything, she wanted to be in love.

* * *

“You headin’ into town?” Jasper asked.

Amon tightened the cinch of his saddle. “Yes, I’m going to call on Nettie.”

“Ain’t the sewing circle going on about now?”

“I have no idea. Is that today?”

“Far as I know, which means ya might want to keep an eye out.”

“For what?”

“Clinton Moresy. Bein’ the day of the circle, he’s liable to show up and have another go at your intended.”

“That sounds like Clinton. All those women in one spot …”

“Yep. If he cain’t get to Miss Whitman, he’s sure to bother one of the others, even if they are married.” Jasper spit in the dirt in disgust. “Man has the morals of a polecat …”

“He’s going to get himself shot if he tries that. Though I know that doesn’t mean he won’t anyway. I swear, he hasn’t got a brain in his head.”

“Well, hurry up and marry that gal of yers so ya won’t have so much to worry about. He’s less likely to be stupid around her if’n he knows yer hitched.”

“Maybe. It depends on if he’s been drinking or not. Well, if he tries anything I’ll have another talk with the sheriff. Clinton wouldn’t be the first man run out of town for inappropriate behavior around women. Remember that Slade fellow a couple of years ago?”

“The one Mr. Berg and the Cooke brothers run off? Yeah, I remember. I wonder whatever happened to him – once he got out of jail, that is. I still cain’t believe the stupid fool came back to cause more trouble.

“Wherever he is, he’s probably up to no good. Clinton can join him in some prison for all I care, and he will if he bothers Nettie or any of the other women. I’ll see to that.”

“You do that. Tell the little lady howdy for me.”

Amon led his horse out of the barn and mounted. “I will.” Without another word he kicked Manuel into a canter and rode away.

He’d forgotten about Clinton the past few days, probably because all he could think about was Nettie and the wondrous way she made him feel. When he was with her, that is. When he wasn’t it was a different story, one he didn’t like.

Jasper’s suggestion that he marry Nettie soon had merit. In fact, maybe he ought to pay a visit to Preacher Jo while Nettie was with the sewing circle, just to discuss things? Wait – what if Jasper was right and that no-good Clinton showed up to harass the women? Hmmm … all right. First he’d see how many of the women’s husbands had accompanied them to town. They could keep an eye on them while he talked with Preacher Jo.

Pleased with the idea, he slowed Manuel down to a trot and pondered the strange feelings he’d battled with last night and this morning. He didn’t feel himself – should he also go see Doc Drake while he was in town, or not worry about it and focus on arranging his wedding?

And shouldn’t he include Nettie in that? Would she feel left out if he went and set a date and time without her? Would she be mad? What if …?

He slowed Manuel to a walk. “What if she doesn’t want to marry me?” he asked aloud. “What if she says no?” That thought chilled him to the bone. But why would she? They suited each other fine, didn’t they? She liked his little spot of land where they’d live and admired his woodworking skill. He could provide for her because of it and told her of his plans to also have a small farm. What reason would she have to say no?

Except …

Except she was a beautiful Englishwoman, refined, genteel, to the manor born. She could have any man in town she wanted. He’d expressed his love for his craft the day before, and she seemed less than appreciative. Of course, she’d excused herself to go back to the cabin and use the privy, but what if that was just that, an excuse? And why ask Cutty to escort her when he would’ve been happy to do it?

The thought rankled, and he urged Manuel back into a canter as if making the horse go faster would leave the thought behind. But it didn’t. Instead, doubt accompanied him all the way to Clear Creek.

* * *

“It’s a letter from Duncan!” Sadie announced when Wilfred handed her the mail.

Belle hurried to her side. “Open it! What does he say?”

“Ladies,” Fanny Fig snapped, “your letter can wait. We need to get started. You don’t see any of us opening our mail, do you?”

Sadie and Belle’s smiles faded. “I suppose you’re right,” Sadie agreed. She stuffed the letter into her skirt pocket and motioned for Belle to retake her seat. Once settled, everyone stared expectantly at Nettie.

She caught the looks of curiosity and sighed. “Duncan … the Duke of Stantham?” she asked Sadie.

“Yes. You know how busy he is. When we get a letter, it’s very special to our family. I’m sure he’s asking after you and your brother.”

Nettie brushed some hair out of her eyes. She should’ve paid closer attention to her appearance before leaving the hotel. “I doubt the duke would trouble himself asking about us. It’s not like we were ever tenants on his estate. We can’t even be considered neighbors.”

“Yes, but he did send you here,” Belle pointed out. “So I’m sure he’ll ask. What would you like us to tell him?”

Nettie froze. What could she say? She had nothing to report and no idea when, or if, she would. Earlier she’d decided that today was as good a day as any to tell Amon of her past. She couldn’t allow him to think of her as anything but what she was. She was not of the gentry. She was nothing more than a servant, often a step away from living in the streets. Cutty would be considered of higher rank than she. Once she told Amon that, then what would he think of her?